


inside my heart, you're here

by CrypticVirago



Series: heart made of glass (mind of stone) [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gavin is thrilled, Gavin loves cats, Gavin takes Nines' RK900 jacket, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Nines and Gavin get a baby (kitten), Nines finds a stray kitten and adopts it, because thats what couples do, steal each others clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:03:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticVirago/pseuds/CrypticVirago
Summary: Nines had never put much thought into getting a pet, but when he finds an abandoned kitten one night, he wasn't just going to leave it.Or: Nines finds a kitten, Gavin is overjoyed, and the two of them become rudimentary parents to a cat.





	inside my heart, you're here

**Author's Note:**

> Nines finding a kitten? Check. Nines and Gavin working together on baby names? Check. Gavin finding and wanting to keep Nines' RK900 jacket? Check. 
> 
> This is entirely self indulgent.

_I don't even need stars in the night, I found my treasure_

_All I need if you by my side, so shine forever_

_Gold, I know you're gold_

_Oh, I know you're gold_

 

* * *

 

 

Arguably, the most famous name tossed about in international debate surrounding androids was “Markus”, followed closely by “Connor”. While Connor himself did not have the same frequency of public appearances as Markus, Connor was known internationally as the android that turned the tide of the revolution entirely by freeing thousands of androids from Cyberlife Tower itself, an undeniably amazing feat.

Even before this point of public notoriety, Connor had still accomplished so much. Even outside of the realm of professionalism, since meeting Lieutenant Hank Anderson, the RK800 had grown so much as a _person_. His predecessor had months of experience on Nines, and even if RK900 had been created to _surpass_ Connor, it didn’t seem to matter. Nines was faster, stronger, more resilient. In a battle of wit or brawn, he would win, every time. But just because he was smarter or stronger, that didn’t mean anything if one wasn’t able to _socialize._

Connor was programmed to adapt to human unpredictability. He was designed to be able to work closely within a team, he could smile, he could laugh, he could cry. He could mimic human behavior so he could integrate.

Nines wasn’t designed to integrate. The RK900 had never been intended to work _together_ with humans, it had only been designed to obey orders given by a handler. The RK900 didn’t need to smile or laugh or cry. It didn’t need to adapt or socialize. Human unpredictability wasn’t something he was designed to adapt to – so he just had to learn _how_ to do it, all on his own, and that kind of thing took time.

At a certain point, Connor had suggested that he get his own pet. Connor had argued that having a pet not only provided companionship – something that Connor felt Nines needed, especially considering the time he spent alone in his own home – but it also helped create friendships and social support, through varying methods. Nines had shut down this train of thought. It was true that Nines liked dogs, well, that was to say that he liked Sumo. The Saint Bernard had attached to Nines almost as quickly as he did to Connor, and whenever Nines is over to the lieutenant and his predecessor’s home, the dog opts to sit in Nines’ lap as opposed to anywhere else. But while Nines did like Sumo, it didn’t think that it would be wise to get his own dog. Dogs – especially younger ones – require special attention and constant vigilance in order to be trained. Nines didn’t really have the time to devote time to such an animal, and besides, his apartment building didn’t allow dogs anyway.

His neighbors did have a variety of other pets, however. The woman across from him was very fond of reptiles, and owned a bearded dragon and a snake. Two doors down, there were two cats, brother and sister. Alongside those were a parakeet, an iguana, four goldfish and a frog, all on his floor alone. Granted, that was a total of 16 apartments, so statistically, not quite half owned pets, but they were there, regardless.

Nines didn’t have any plans in particular to _get_ a pet, either. If he was rather honest, he was a bit afraid of getting one. He was an android that didn’t need food or water or the like. What if, by some matter of ridiculous circumstance, he forgot to feed it? What if he couldn’t connect with it, just like he couldn’t connect with most people? Even if he did have a pet, he didn’t want it to be in a miserable household with an owner it didn’t like.

And there was that part, too. _Owner_. Androids were owned. They had been abused, neglected, destroyed, killed, but they were _owned_ , and so there was nothing that had been deemed wrong about this kind of treatment. It all didn’t… sit well in his stomach. But even if he wasn’t looking for one, even if he had some debate with getting one, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t take one in if the situation called for it.

This situation, as Nines saw it, very much called for it.

It was the second week of March, the eighth, just passing ten in the evening. Truthfully, Nines didn’t have a reason to be outside – he had work tomorrow, just as he had work today. He didn’t need to go on walks for his health, didn’t need to go out for anything at all. But he had still done so, simply because he… wanted to.

He wouldn’t have even noticed the small cat if it hadn’t been for his sensitivity towards heat signatures. While living in Detroit, especially while being a police officer, he had developed a penchant for being cautious, even if the situation hadn’t called for it. He also had a penchant for wearing heavy coats, even if he didn’t need them, and kept his hands in the pockets, even if his fingers didn’t get cold. It helped him blend in, he supposed, especially on a night where it was already beginning to drop towards single digits, even before midnight.

The pathetic thing has pulled itself halfway underneath a large, green dumpster, damp, shivering and so small that Nines wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for its heat signature. From what Nines can tell, it has a black coat, with only a small patch of white at its breast. The first thing that Nines does is scan the surrounding areas. It’s just a kitten, chances are it has  a mother somewhere. But when his scan picks up no felines in their surroundings, Nines does a quick internet search about approaching stray cats.

Nines takes a single step into the alley, closer to the small, trembling feline, before slowly lowering himself to his knees. He sees the cat flinch upon his advance, rising from its coiled ball onto unsteady front legs, and spends a few moments completely stationary, halting his false breathing for the sake of stillness. The best way, he read, to gain a stays trust is to give them food. Unfortunately, Nines has no such thing with him, and feels that leaving the cat will result in its disappearance from this location.

_Talking to the cat without approaching it is important. Talk to the animal quietly and calmly._

“Hello, little one,” he says, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. It’s only a low hum in the stillness of the alley. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The kitten seems to hold no interest in him, and the shaking of its small body does not cease. It hardly seems able to sit upright, its eyes partially closed.

_Just offer your hand to the cat, knuckles first. Give it a chance to sniff your hand and get used to your scent._

Nines does so, extending his right hand towards the small thing. It takes some time, but eventually, he sees its nose begin to twitch, and after a moment, it takes a step closer to him. Its whiskers brush against his fingers – he knows they’re warm, they must be, after being in his coat for so many minutes. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “See? I’m not going to hurt you.” He turns his hand over, his skin slowly fading away from the fingertips inward – the meaning wouldn’t convey entirely, he thinks, especially not to a kitten, but it was the greatest display of trust he could think of.

The warmth of his hand seems to be more interesting to the kitten than his words, and it takes the few steps necessary to pull itself towards him. Nines catches himself smiling – it had been rather easy, he thinks, especially considering the challenge that it had been stated to be on the internet. However, he supposes the kitten’s vulnerable state, as well as the warmth his body provided, was enough to overpower whatever trepidation it may have had.

Carefully, Nines wraps his fingers around its stomach, his other hand cupping its hind legs, pulling it off the ground and against his chest as he stands. It weighs less than a pound, which, depending on its age, could be worrisome or entirely normal. Nines zips his coat far enough that the kittens lower half is within it, letting it sit just above his thirium pump.

It was all the warmth that he could offer.

On the way back home, Nines stops at a 24 hour convenience store a block away from his apartment. He doesn’t need to eat, and as such, doesn’t have any food at his home. So Nines buys two cans of wet food, finding that it would be easier for a small, weak kitten to consume. And he hopes it will.

He doesn’t want this little thing to die.

It’s stopped shaking in the ten minute walk, and that itself is a blessing. He’s still afraid of illness, is still worried at its body weight, its current physical state. He hopes that, once he gets it home, he’ll be able to address its health, hopes that he can coax food and water into it.

If Nines wasn’t concerned about its size before, he would especially be now, seeing how exceptionally small it looks on the cushion of his couch. Its coat is puffed up, but that does little to add to its size. He sits the bags in the floor before going to his knees once more, resting his hand against its back. His hand is bigger than it is. But it’s a little boy, he finds, and can only guess it’s anywhere from three to five weeks old. Despite his best attempts, the small boy refuses the food he offers it, denounces the water, wants little but the warmth and growing familiarity of his hand. The little kitten had remained curled against Nines’ thigh once Nines had sat down on the couch. When Nines had rested his palm against his back, the thing had let out a brief, rough purr. It had made Nines incredibly happy to hear.

After it is no longer shivering, and once morning comes a bit closer to arriving, Nines attempts to clean him up a little bit. He’s as gentle as he’s able to be – wiping at the matted, damp fur with a cloth. The little thing mewls its complaints as he handles it. He shushes its complaints, quietly insisting that this will help, even if he knows that his words hold no meaning to the cat. To his surprise, the kitten partakes in Nines’ second attempt at giving it food, even if it consumes very little. He can only hope, however, that he is able to keep it down – anything his malnourished body can retain would be pivotal in assisting in his recovery.

He is considerate enough to not send his partner a text until 07:05 in the morning.

**07:05**

**> >I won’t be into work until later in the morning. I’ve had an unexpected change of plans.**

It’s only twenty-four minutes later that he receives a reply. He is getting dressed to go out to the veterinarian that opens at eight, pulling the kitten from where it was more than comfortable on the couch to his hands. It digs its claws into his sweater, clinging to his chest in the same spot it had rested the night before, above his thirium pump. It was warmer there, he thinks, than the rest of his body, considering the active mechanics of the area.

_> >care to elaborate_

Rather than sent the information via words, he instead sends it through an image. He captures the image of the small kitten, claws sunk into his shirt, and sends it to his partner.

_> >holy fuckin shit_

_> >where did you get that???_

**> >I found it, last night. He’s malnourished, dehydrated, and I’m concerned about illnesses. I’m going to take him to the vet to get him treatment.**

_> >omg nines hes so small_

**> >I think he’s 3-5 weeks old**

_> >geez thats young. no mom?_

**> >There wasn’t one anywhere nearby. I don’t know if he was abandoned or simply lost. **

_> >damn. poor little guy. keep me informed? _

**> >I promise. **

He leaves at 07:45, getting a cab, and the ride to the vet takes all of fifteen minutes, putting him at the front door at 08:04. The receptionist is a young woman, dark skin and brown hair coiled and to her shoulders. A quick scan IDs her as Tanisha Williams, a twenty-one year old student at the University of Michigan in Detroit. She gives him a wide smile as he enters, and he gives her a smaller one in return. The smaller it is, the less unnerving it will be, he’s been told.

She greets him politely, questions the reason for his visit, which is rather self-explanatory once he shows her the small cat that is stubbornly refusing to relinquish its grip on his turtleneck. She begins to input information into the tablet, using a program that she is clearly unfamiliar with. Considering her current place of employment isn’t listed in her accessible file, Nines can only assume that she’s new. This must be her first, or one of her first, days working here. Her stress levels are elevated the longer it takes, and she eventually begins stammering apologies for her unfamiliarity.

It doesn’t bother Nines. It truly doesn’t. He can recognize and give grace where it is due, and he knows the bitter feeling of inadequacy too well to harshly criticize her. He tells her as such – tells her that it isn’t any trouble to him, and she seems genuinely relieved at his patience.

The kitten is taken into the veterinarian’s care after this point. He gives Tanisha his contact information – tells her that he would appreciate knowing a prognosis.

He receives one by 10:45, while he and Gavin are halfway to a crime scene. He answers the call while they’re in the car and it isn’t Tanisha, but a vet assistant named Violet that gives him the information. The kitten was malnourished and dehydrated, as Nines had predicted, but they where giving him fluids through an IV and he was already doing much better. Aside from muscle weakness and lethargy, the kitten was fine. Nines, of course, is relieved, and only has one more question to ask: “When can I come back to get him?”

“Dude, you’re actually gonna keep it?” Gavin asks once the phone call ends, sounding more excited than he should considering that the cat is not his.

“I grew… a bit attached to him,” Nines admits. “Besides, considering the popularity of android pets and the large population of stray animals on the streets or in shelters, it is possible that he would never get adopted otherwise.”

“What are you going to name him?” Gavin continues, and that… was something Nines hadn’t necessarily thought about just yet. Naming an animal, he had learned, was rather indicative of claiming it, or developing an attachment. He hadn’t wanted to get himself too attached, especially considering the previous uncertainty of its survival.

“I don’t know. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Hm…” Gavin hums thoughtfully. “Can I name him? …what about ‘Bastard’? Or ‘Asshole’?”

“I am no longer open to suggestions.”

“Cmon, I’m just kidding,” Gavin laughs, and the responding smile that Nines gives him lets Gavin know that Nines didn’t mean it either. “Fuck if I know what to name it. I’ve never had a pet before. I can’t even name a damn playlist on my phone.”

“I’ve never named anything before, either. It seems we are both rather inexperienced.”

“Didn’t you… name yourself? Or who did?”

“I didn’t name myself, no.” He instructs Gavin to take a left turn at the next red light before continuing. “In technicality, my name is Connor. But that was only with the assumption that my predecessor would be out of commission by the time of my release. Obviously, something different had to be chosen, and Hank had gotten tired of calling me ‘RK900’. Nines began as a nickname, but I found it felt… appropriate for the time being.”

There’s a long stretch of silence after Nines says this, until Gavin eventually mumbles, “It suits you.” At Nines questioning glance, he elaborates. “’Nines’. I dunno I can’t really… imagine you with any other name. It fits you too well.” Despite this brief moment of sentiment, Nines sees Gavin smirk in amusement from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I can’t see you as a Connor. Or Colin. Or Chris.”

“Are these plausible names restricted to beginning with c?”

“I guess not. Maybe with an ‘r’ then?” There’s another thoughtful silence. “Robert?” Gavin suggests, and Nines’ grimace says it all in place of any words. “God, just imagine – you named _Bob._ ” He breaks out into a laughing fit at that, snickering behind his hand. “Or Richard. Then you’d be a certified Dick.” Nines snorts – actually _snorts_ – at that. Absolutely ridiculous statements, but Gavin is laughing and seems genuinely pleased, so the ridiculousness is rather well-placed.

At the end of the work day, Nines leaves work right on time, Gavin in tow. His partner insisted on coming with him, using the excuse that he couldn’t help Nines name it if he had never even seen it. _“Sometimes a name just comes to you when you see it_ , _”_ Gavin had said, but he didn’t need any excuse to accompany Nines anywhere.

The kitten does certainly seem in much higher spirits when Gavin and Nines get taken back to the private examination room. The vet assistant that Nines had spoken to earlier – Violet – had brought him in in a small blue crate, pulling him from it and rubbing between his shoulder blades with the pad of her finger. Once being sat on the metal table, it began to complain at the lack of physical attention.

“We kept him on fluids for most of the day,” Violet explained, remaining attentive as the kitten kept trying to find its way over the edge of the table. “Once we took him off he seemed much more receptive to actually eating, so that’s a pretty good sign. He’ll still need plenty of water, light food, a lot of attention. Not really much different than any other kitten, really.”

“Thank you for caring for him,” Nines says.

“It’s no problem,” Violet smiles, and she pulls the kitten back to the center of the table once more. “Have you gotten a name for him yet, or…?”

“Not yet.” It’s Gavin now that answers. “We’re working on it.”

“And who are you?” Violet asks, and she doesn’t sound sarcastic or perturbed. Nines supposes it was his fault, but Gavin had never come up in their conversation on the phone.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Nines answers. It’s without hesitation, without really thinking about it, and he doesn’t even notice what he’s said until he feels Gavin stiffen minutely next to him.

“Ah, okay. Nice to meet you. I’m Violet, but, uh, well I guess you already know who I am,” she laughs, nervously, gesturing to the ID tag clipped to her scrubs. Gavin, Nines commends, recovers immediately and gives her a dazzling smile of his own.

“I’m Gavin. Nice to meet you, too.”

It doesn’t take long for Violet to get the kitten back in his crate, as well as a few pamphlets with information on caring for him, and after filling out lengthy adoption papers – which were more extensive then he thought they would be – and paying for the vet fees, they’re leaving. Gavin still hasn’t said anything about Nines’ use of the term ‘boyfriend’, and that is… subtly worrying. Was this what dating was? Were they dating? From what Nines understood, kissing didn’t necessarily indicate a relationship, and there hadn’t been any formal conversation to establish anything for certain. Nines calls for a taxi, and they wait on a bench on the sidewalk, the kitten in the crate in Nines’ lap.

At length, Gavin speaks. “So… boyfriend, huh?” It’s teasing, but Nines doesn’t exactly pick up on that.

“I’m… sorry, I didn’t think about it,” Nines admits, rather embarrassed and fingers twitching with nervousness.

“Nah, it’s cool. I just…. Well, I – shit,” Gavin cuts himself off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, Nines are you sure about… dating me? I mean, I’m not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, brightest bulb in the lamp, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I think you are perfectly sharp,” Nines responds. “You wouldn’t be such a brilliant detective otherwise.” He pauses, prepares to say the absolute tackiest thing he could ever imagine saying. “And even if you don’t think you’re the brightest, you were certainly bright enough to light up my life.” He says it half sincerely, half teasingly. He means it, he certainly does, but the urge to say it comes from the reaction he knows he’ll receive.

Gavin holds his hand over his mouth, fake gagging. “God, sorry, _what the fuck,_ ” he replies. “That is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard anyone fucking say and I’ve watched the damn Notebook so what the hell.”

Nines laughs under his breath. As he thought, it had been entirely worth it. “I felt that the humor of the statement was worth the shame. But I do say it with some sense of sincerity.”

Gavin only hums, obviously a bit uncomfortable with that sincerity. Only a short while later, the automated taxi pulls against the curb, the door sliding open. The cat carrier remains in Nines’ lap, even once they get inside and Nines begins to input the address to the precinct. Gavin had accompanied him here, but his car was still parked in the DPD’s lot – Nines thought it necessary to return him there in order to retrieve it. But before he confirms the location, Gavin notices.

“We’re not going to your place?” he asks, sounding like he was trying to seem nonchalant about the question he poses.

“I had thought you would prefer to return to your car,” Nines suggests, but Gavin shrugs as his response.

“Nah. Your place is fine. My car’ll still be there in the morning.”

So they end up going to Nines’ apartment. Nines’ apartment is, in comparison to Gavin’s extremely sparse. Nines didn’t feel it particularly necessary to continually accumulate material things – he didn’t need food or books, didn’t need television or any other form of entertainment items. He could read books online, in his head. Could watch television programs, news channels, all in his head. It wasn’t entirely problematic, but he finds that this dismissal of the unnecessary meant that his apartment remained considerably empty.

He hadn’t felt shame in this previously, though upon further consideration, he thinks that there may be something not quite socially acceptable about this. Gavin’s home was full of personal effects, as was Hank and Connor’s. Nines didn’t own many things – he had his badge and his standard issue handgun. His clothes, which had been a slow accumulation after he stopped wearing his Cyberlife uniform. They were hung in his closet, which was too big for the amount of clothes that he had.

The only personal effect that he could say he had, however, was his Cyberlife jacket, and he kept that separate, in the coats closet, for… reasons.

While they are on their way to Nines’ apartment, after Nines deletes the precinct’s address and inputs his own, Gavin asks, “How is the little guy?”

The kitten had been rather still since leaving the veterinarian. Once Nines views through the metal grate at the opening, meeting a bleary pair of grey-blue eyes through it. He pulls at the latch, twisting the carrier in his lap so that the opening faced towards Gavin. “He seems to be doing just fine,” Nines hums, and watches Gavin’s eyes light up before he reaches in.

“He’s so small,” Gavin says, repeating his message from earlier. “Runt of the litter, maybe? That’s what I’m guessing.” After a second, he laughs. “Nines, he’s got a resting bitch face. Like yours.”

“Does he?”

“Yeah he totally fuckin’ does.” Gavin looks up at Nines, rather intensely, back to the cat, to Nines again. His face softens. “I think his eyes are about the same color as yours, too.”

“Well, isn’t that charming,” Nines says.

“Yeah,” Gavin smiles, and he looks directly at Nines as he continues with, “He’s pretty charming. …I guess.”

There still isn’t a decision made on a name by the time they get to Nines’ apartment, but it is forgone with the process of actually getting inside. The automated taxi drops them off at the front door of the fourteen story building, pulling into the inlet in order to let them out at the sidewalk. Nines keeps the carrier as stationary and as level as he is able, hoping not to jostle the cat too much.

The cat.

 _His_ cat.

“What floor?” Gavin asks, once they get to the elevator.

“Eleven,” Nines answers, and once the doors shut, Nines allows himself to breathe. Well, breathe being an entirely figurative term. He allows himself to _decompress_. There had been many times in the past where Nines had caught himself doing work after hours. He and Connor were very much alike in that regard – they were always thinking about _something_ , had to continually have their minds busy, and with the attentiveness that being a detective demanded, the two of them would work on case files even while at home. Nines and Connor both had gotten grilled by Hank about this bad practice – that since androids being paid now, unrecorded and unpaid working hours was full of pitfalls, and technically against FLSA requirements regarding wage regulations. Hank had also mentioned the problem of ‘burning out’, spreading oneself too thin, and despite the fact that Nines was an android with boundless energy and an indefinite attention span, Hank’s concern was endearing. It was hard, though, to simply ‘stop working’. So Nines had forced himself to, as Hank had said, breathe, and live a little. The elevator was his stopping point – once the doors closed, work ended.

They step out of the elevator to a familiar face, one that breaks into a smile. “Oh, hi Nines! Long time, no see.” His neighbor, the owner of the two cats he sometimes watched. They sidestep from where they had been waiting for the arrival of the elevator, allowing Nines and Gavin to get out. “What do you got there?” He raises the carrier enough for them to look into it, and once they are able to discern what’s inside, they coo at the kitten tangled in the courtesy blanket at the bottom of the crate. “Aw, so small! Did babysitting mine make you want your own?” They glance at Gavin, who Nines’ thinks they only notice due to his partner’s shuffle behind him. “Oh and who’s this? I haven’t seen you around before. My name’s Josie, it’s nice to meet you.”

They extend their hand, and Gavin takes it to give it a firm shake. “Gavin. Nice to meet you too.”

At hearing Gavin’s introduction, mischief fills their eyes. “Gavin?” they repeat, glancing to Nines for a heartbeat. “As in Gavin Reed? The one and only?”

“Uh…” is Gavin’s response to Josie, before he looks at Nines, eyes demanding an explanation. “I’m assuming you’ve heard of me, then?”

“Nines talks about you sometimes,” Josie admits, and god, Nines suddenly wishes the pair hadn’t run into them. Josie was nice, extremely friendly and welcoming, one of the few friends that Nines had outside of Gavin, Connor and Hank. Josie likes to talk and sometimes, while talking to them, Nines gets… carried away. “That you were his partner at the DPD. It’s pretty cool, I think. Like a buddy cop duo.”

Josie pulls their phone from their back pocket as it chimes, and once they see either the alert or the time, they start, reaching to hit the call button on the elevator. “I’d love to see your cat once it gets settled in! I’ve gotta go right now, but it was nice seeing you again, Nines. And you, Gavin!” They enter into the elevator, only to turn, look between Gavin and Nines, and smile. Nines… can’t say he likes that smile, nor the wink that Josie gives him. “We need to catch up later.”

There’s silence for six seconds, and then Gavin comments, “Well… she was friendly.”

“They,” Nines corrects.

“Huh?”

“Josie’s pronouns are ‘they’, not she.”

“Oh. Shit, right. Gotcha.”

Nines doesn’t waste anymore time loitering at the elevator door. Instead, he begins walking towards the end of the hallway, around the corner to the left, and down to his apartment. “Josie was the first to welcome me when I moved here,” Nines explains as they walk. “They had offered to bake me a cake as a welcoming gift, but once they noticed I was an android, they settled with, and I quote, a ‘firm handshake and a polite hello’.”

“Damn. You think they’d still bake you a cake if you asked? You can just give it to me,” Gavin jokes, but without waiting for Nines to reply, he continues. “And you said they had cats?”

“Yes. Two, brother and sister. Shadow and Star, respectively.”

“So one’s black and one’s white, I’m guessing.”

“Both are black and white. Though Shadow’s face is mostly black, while the opposite can be said for his sister. Statistically, they both have nearly the same amount of both – 43% black and 57% white, with a few percent variance between the two of them.”

“Is that honestly something you decided to figure out one day?” Gavin asks incredulously.

“It’s just something else I reflexively notice,” Nines shrugs, but the conversation ends there once they arrive to his door. Gavin takes the cat carrier while Nines unlocks the door, turning on the lights and removing his shoes once he steps inside.

After removing his badge and gun – setting them both on the counter (exactly the same spot he always sits them) – he takes the carrier from Gavin and sets to returning the kitten from where it had been twelve hours previous. “Damn, Nines,” Gavin starts, shutting the door while he takes his shoes off, kicking them next to Nines’. Nines doesn’t miss noticing the way his voice echoes in the living space. “Are you sure you live here? This place looks like it’s due for an open house in about an hour.”

“I don’t own very much,” Nines admits, sitting the carrier on the couch. He opens the carrier door, leaving it open and allowing the kitten to come out whenever he so pleased.

“What _do_ you own?” Gavin says from where he lingers at the nonexistent border between the kitchen and living area.

Nines does an inventory check almost without thinking of it. “Clothes,” he begins. “Coats. Shoes. I have a trauma repair kit in the bathroom.” _One more thing_. “And now, a cat.”

“Well I mean, that’s not really… that’s stuff you need. You know? I mean like, stuff you want. Like pictures or blankets. Knickknacks. That sort of stuff.”

“I don’t have any pictures. I don’t need blankets and as for knickknacks I can’t say that I can really think of anything that I would want.” A harsh mewl comes from the crate, one that Nines can hear but knows that Gavin cannot. Upon investigating, he finds that the kitten is merely wanting attention as it pulls itself out of the crate, sniffing at the couch cushion. Nines pulls him forward, taking the blanket out to sit both of them on the couch. Afterwards, he takes the carrier and sets it beside the couch, rather out of the way. “Though I suppose now I’ll have to get some things for him. I could speak to Josie and see if they have some recommendations.”

“Well a cat tower would be pretty good,” Gavin mutters. “Like by the window or something. Cats like a view. And a scratching post. A litter box, food and water bowls. That kinda stuff.”

All those things, of course, could easily be ordered online. Nines zones out, searching for the aforementioned items and places an order for them to be delivered. When it came to a cat tower, Nines isn’t quite sure as to specifics regarding dimensions. Getting a standard dimension tower – or the five foot one that he views to be standard height – would be better for the long term. But at the same time, he isn’t sure if it would be practical for a kitten as small as his.

He stops browsing in order to ask Gavin his opinion, but once he focuses back on his partner, he freezes.

Gavin’s curious by nature. In their crime scene investigations that involve homes, Gavin is the first in, the first to work his way through wherever they’re at. Not necessarily gaining clues. Nines had asked once, and Gavin’s answer had been that he wanted to get a feel for who they were. What kind of shit they had on their bookshelves or hung up on the walls. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Gavin would do much the same when he arrived to Nines’ own home, not that Nines minded.

It seems that Gavin had gotten into the coat closet, where the only thing hanging within it was his Cyberlife jacket. Admittedly, it had been a long while since Nines had bothered to open that closet, and for some strange reason, seeing the jacket felt… somehow jarring. Or maybe it was simply peculiar to see because Gavin had put it on. The sleeves were a bit too long, the jacket itself going farther down below his waist than it would on Nines, accounting for their few inches of height difference.

“How do I look?” Gavin asks, holding out his arm in a mock display. Nines doesn’t answer. It’s… strange to see the jacket on his partner. The stiffness of the shoulders and the height of the collar look unsuitably foreign on him. Gavin looks down, at the ‘RK900’ emblazed on the right breast, inspecting the serial number beneath it, the blue triangle and band on the sleeve. “…why’d you keep this thing?”

Nines answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”

Gavin looks back over to him, inspecting him for a moment. “Do you… do you not like seeing it?” he questions. Nines can only suppose Gavin asks this is because his LED, he assumes, isn’t blue.

“It’s simply… strange to see it on you,” Nines says. And it was. It was strange to see someone so human in something that had been made to make him look less than that.

“Bad strange?”

“No. Not necessarily.”

Gavin doesn’t respond immediately, instead looking down at the jacket and rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. In that brief silence, Nines sees his cheeks darken. “Would you… uh,” Gavin begins, then curses under his breath, as he’s so fond of doing. “I mean, could I… keep this?”

Nines isn’t sure of how to respond. “Why?”

“Well, isn’t that what couples do?” Gavin grins, and he looks up at Nines through his eyelashes. “Steal each other’s clothes?”

Nines didn’t think he would be so easily swayed. “It isn’t technically stealing if I turn it over to you willingly, Gavin.” The fabric of the sleeves is familiar once Nines gets to them, straightening the cuff of the left sleeve before pulling the folded end of the collar back up. With Nines’ standard issue button-up beneath it, it had very much looked like a collar.

A collar, like he was an animal that had to be controlled.

“So?” Gavin asks, voice softer now, partially to compensate for their closeness. “How does it look?”

Nines answers by kissing him, finding his hand to link their fingers together. “You always look beautiful,” he replies. “I told you once before, didn’t I? That you look very handsome.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow, as though he was trying to recall the occasion. “I was in a suit then. That’s the only reason.”

“Do you honestly think that I only find you attractive when you’re wearing a suit?”

Gavin’s smile becomes increasingly suggestive. “…yeah?”

“You’re unbelievably wrong.”

Gavin, perhaps subconsciously, licks his bottom lip. “Prove me wrong.”

Nines hadn’t started out as a particularly good kisser. It wasn’t exactly something that an android specialized in investigations and combat had necessarily needed to know. But Nines prided himself in being a fast learner, and he could say now that he was considerably adept. He was adept, especially where Gavin was involved. Nines had learned that his partner had certain preferences, certain tendencies, ones that he had been able to learn and respond to. Like that Gavin’s hands usually linger at his neck, fingers brushing the plate at the top of his spine. Or that he enjoys Nines using his teeth against his lip, likes when Nines’ fingers tug at his hair.

Surprisingly, and to Nines’ disappointment, it’s Gavin that turns away this time, hands pressing against Nines’ shoulders to push him back far enough to speak. “I thought of a name,” he says.

“Oh?” Nines prompts him to continue.

“Binx. Like from Hocus Pocus.”

“Can’t say that I have ever seen it.” It didn’t matter to Nines, really, what Gavin suggested. Nines felt rather happy, thrilled even, that Gavin wanted to help with the kitten, had wanted to name it.

Gavin acts shocked at this news. “That’s entirely unacceptable,” he scathes. “It was a staple of my childhood. That movie always came on in October because of Halloween, and I watched it every year.”

“I guess we have an addendum to our movie schedule.”

“You’re damn right.”

Gavin takes a glance behind him, and then he’s beelining for the edge of the couch. Binx, as he now has been named, had seemed to be keen on jumping from the edge of the cushion. Gavin scoops him up, however, just before his front paws leave the couch. “Thought you had us, didn’t ya?” Gavin scolds, entirely playfully and he holds the kitten up to face level. Binx isn’t bothering to look at Gavin, however. He’s too busy viewing his surroundings from this new vantage point. “You’re such a cute little thing but you look like such a little asshole, ya know that?” Gavin coos, rubbing beneath the kitten’s neck with his finger. Nines can hear the kitten’s purr from where he stands, leaning against the wall of the living room only a couple feet away. “Hey, Nines ya hear that? I think he likes me.”

Seeing Gavin’s smile as he strokes beneath the kitten’s chin, as Binx purrs in response, makes Nines’ heart seize strangely. It doesn’t do so physically – his thirium pump is perfectly operational and there is no sign of an anomaly there or in his regulator. But the feeling occurs without physical detection, and he can only wonder what kind of _feeling_ it is.

He loves this man. Loves him and his beautiful smile and the childish gleam in his eyes and his endearing charisma.

“Yes,” Nines replies, and he can’t help but smile at the sight. “I think he does.”

“Which one of us do you think he’s gonna use as a teething ring first?” Gavin asks. The connotation of that sentence doesn’t escape Nines notice, and he only wonders if Gavin realizes it as well. _It’ll be both of us. We’ll both be raising him._ “I mean, I’m probably softer. But I kinda hope he’ll pick you. You don’t feel pain, right?”

“No I don’t.” Which was technically the truth. There was a considerable amount of unpleasant discomfort that resulted once his regulator was removed, but conventionally, pain wasn’t something he had to worry about.

“Hm… Oh! Do you think if I rub you in catnip that’ll work?”

For all the credit Nines gives Gavin for his intelligence and wit, sometimes the man he loves is entirely ridiculous.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from "Gold" by Owl City.


End file.
